


Learning to Lay a Royal Foundation

by theianitor



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Awkwardness, Drinking, Guyliner, M/M, Makeup, Mentions others
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-11-02 07:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20668526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theianitor/pseuds/theianitor
Summary: George is fully prepared to spend another party in Monaco on the sidelines, sipping his drink, staying out of the way, not being noticed. Someone a bit more well-versed in getting what they want is quite willing to screw those plans right up, and get George very noticed indeed.





	Learning to Lay a Royal Foundation

**Author's Note:**

> Good fun that came out of a silly conversation with a few fellow writers - silly conversations are the f*cking best. XD Thanks for all the support and love, guys! <3

There were a lot of parts of being an F1 driver that George Russell couldn’t quite wrap his head around. In a way it was all completely insane, but he had trained and prepared for the racing most of his life already. That was actually the easy bit. People wearing shirts and caps with his number on it, asking for autographs, that was slightly bizarre. It gave him a thrill though, and he made an effort to be polite, to really try to convey how grateful he was for every fan and all the support.

The parties were a bit more posh, which was logical in a way, but also kind of scary. It was posher, but not in a suit-and-tie kind of way, as none of the drivers seemed too keen on suits. It was more in the way that both the drinks, venues, and participants seemed more pricy. Still, walking past the line to a very exclusive night club in Monaco, nodding at the doorman as if he was someone you actually knew and not like you were secretly worrying that he’d deny you entry – that was properly bizarre.

Nobody at the club was likely to ask for an autograph though. In here, George was a very small fish in a very large pond again. Not in the least because, since the party was being held in Monaco, there very big and famous fish in abundance.

And that was another part that he found a little hard to really grasp. The people he’d seen on the telly, the greats, the world champions, they were here. Really here. In a booth he spotted Sebastian Vettel and Kimi Raikkonen, Sebastian talking animatedly and Kimi’s eyes slightly unfocused, whether from the bottle stood on the table in front of them or because he was used to Sebastian going on a bit, George didn’t know.

Over by the bar were a few more of the Monaco-crowd, Nico Rosberg talking with Nico Hulkenberg, Jenson Button nudging him to give him a drink he had apparently just ordered for him. Leaving the bar and holding three glasses of beer so carefully he didn’t even seem to see him, George helpfully ducked out of the way as Valtteri passed him, heading for the table behind him. Beyond the bar area he could see a dance floor, and he approached it cautiously.

His heart was already drumming along faster than the beat of the music, and he’d need some alcohol in him if this was to have any chance of ending well. It was strange how this could still make him more nervous than sitting in a road-faring jet plane, waiting to take corners at over a hundred miles an hour.

The purple and red light made the crowd look kind of anonymous and mysterious, a little bit like they were a single creature, moving to the beat as one. Once his eyes had adjusted to the dim room and the flashing lights though, George easily spotted Alex and Max, who had apparently already achieved however many drinks were needed to stop worrying about looking like fools on the dance floor. Carlos was nodding his head, his black hair shining like it had purple highlights in it when the lights hit it. Esteban Ocon, tall and therefor very visible, was laughing at Lance and Kevin...

And then he saw Lando.

George swallowed. There was another thing he was weirdly concerned about, more than his own safety in a car that couldn’t exactly be guaranteed to obey his commands as much as one might prefer at high speeds. It was as if his heart did a weird little double-thump whenever Lando was around. Which was often. Which was something of a problem.

Lando was bouncing up and down, looking quite overjoyed, but this said nothing about how drunk or not he might be. Lando was always active, happy, and bouncy. George had no idea how he did it. He liked to prepare, to make sure, to double check. Lando liked to think things worked out. Something about it gave him a similar thrill to people wanting his autograph.

With a sigh, he turned away from the dance floor and headed for the bar. At least since the venue was actually booked for them, there was no chance of being checked for ID. Small favors, and all that.

\--

“If I worked here, I would check his ID,” Jenson said, glancing over his shoulder as Russell ordered a drink. Nico and Hulk laughed, although not unkindly; they’d all been there. The rookies always caught a bit of flak for being the new guys, being young, and most of the teasing was done in good humor.

“Don’t be mean to him,” Sebastian said, appearing beside them. “Water, please,” he added to the bartender, who seemed to think his order should be filled before that of the young driver further down the bar.

“I’m not being mean.”

“Was he not being mean?” Seb asked Nico, who half-shrugged. Seb made a ‘see?’-face.

“Thought you’d be on my side,” Jenson grumbled.

“He needs the liquid courage,” Seb said, taking his water and asking for a straw.

“Oh?” Jenson looked over his shoulder again. George wasn’t looking at anyone, just standing up straight and waiting politely. _A picture of British civility_, Jenson thought with a smirk, sipping his drink. “How so?”

Seb shot Hulk a look and then made his face a mask of solid indifference.

“Nothing.”

“What’s nothing?” Nico asked, instantly intrigued.

“It’s...” Hulk started, but Seb intensified his glare. “Nothing,” he finished, grinning into his drink.

“Oh come on, you can’t leave us out like that!” Jenson complained.

“What has he done?” Nico looked over at Russell too now, and this time the younger driver turned toward him just as he did. He looked a bit uncomfortable under the scrutiny, and Nico smiled. Russell nodded awkwardly and then turned away, a definite red tinge in his cheeks.

“Doesn’t look like he’s done much of anything,” Jenson quipped. Hulk snorted into his drink.

“Don’t be mean to him,” Seb repeated, and then left for the table where Kimi had taken up the role as lead talker, waving his hands at a nodding, but silent, Valtteri.

“Okay so, now you can tell us what’s going on, no?” Nico said, lowering his voice and leaning in. Hulk shook his head.

“Seb will be on my ass if I tell you anything now,” he said.

“Hiya,” a loud greeting made them break up their little huddle. “Beer, thanks!” Daniel called, putting an arm around Hulk. His hair was sweaty, his shirt was open, and whatever he had been doing, he had clearly been moving about a fair bit.

“Where have you been?”

“Just late, mate,” Daniel grinned at Hulk, who slipped out of his sweaty hold. “I had a couple of drinks at home and ran down. So, what’re we talking about?”

“Nothing,” Hulk said.

“He was about to tell us why Russell apparently needs a bit of Dutch courage,” Jenson said.

“No, I was-”

“Ah,” Daniel said, looking over Jenson’s shoulder, only just seeing George’s retreating back as he left to stand over by the dance floor without participating. “Is it still ‘cuz of Lando?”

Nico perked up, Jenson’s smile grew into a crooked grin, and Hulk hissed.

“Shut up.”

“You leave the grid and it’s like you’re disowned or something!” Jenson said, faking more indignation than he was feeling. “If he’s having love-trouble, wouldn’t it be nicer to help him just a little bit?”

“That’s what I said!” Daniel agreed.

“Well...” Hulk started, a little more hesitantly.

“Come on, not you too. He’ll never get anywhere on his own.”

“Maybe...” Hulk started. Nico and Daniel shook their heads in unison.

“I heard he made a Powerpoint presentation to get his seat,” Jenson said in a low voice. “I doubt Norris’d be swayed by a Powerpoint.”

“Yeah so then it’s only fair, no?” Nico said enthusiastically.

“You got a plan?” Daniel asked, his eyes hungry at the prospect of a bit of fun.

Nico looked over to where George was standing, taking a swig of his drink and looking at the dance floor like it was a strange, unknown land to which he didn’t have a ticket or a map. He was dressed in black, which was good, but other than that he looked like his mother had water-combed his hair before he left. This was bad. Nico bit his lip, thinking.

“He needs to be a little bit more...” he searched for a word.

“Interesting?” Daniel supplied.

“Interesting...” Nico said, smiling at Jenson.

“How long do you need?” Jenson asked, checking his watch.

“Give me a drink and ten minutes.”

\--

George watched the dance floor a little wistfully, doing his best to work his way through the drink he’d been given.

“Hello.”

The greeting was in normal speaking tone, but George still jumped, unprepared for anyone addressing him here. Turning, he was faced with a smiling Nico Rosberg.

“Want a drink?” he said, holding out a shot glass.

“Eh... thanks?” George said. The music was so loud he had to speak up to be sure he was being heard. “What is it?”

“It’s called a screaming orgasm,” Nico said, again talking like they were in a normal room, not beside a thumping dance floor full of people in a club in one of the most exclusive cities in the world.

“What?” George said, leaning in a little closer.

“It’s called a screaming orgasm,” Nico repeated, smiling as George blinked at him.

This was another one of those bizarre things, but while he’d been steadily getting used to the other ones this one had never happened before and so he was a little at a loss as to how he should react. Without really thinking, he copied Nico’s movements, accepting the little glass, toasting Nico when the other held out his drink, and then sank it in one go.

_There was alcohol in that,_ George’s brain thought as he felt a mixed flavor of sweet coffee, almonds, and chocolate burn its way down his throat.

_There was a lot of alcohol in that,_ it continued as the heat settled in his belly and made him feel a little bit tingly.

“Thanks,” he coughed.

Nico smirked at him and then turned to look at the dance floor too, like there was something interesting going on out there. “No problem.”

He seemed intent to stay in the quiet corner George had picked out for himself, and it didn’t seem quite right to either leave or ask him to, especially not after accepting a free drink from the man. Nico was swaying a little to the music, sipping his drink, and George did the same, glancing at him.

They’d met before, briefly. Nico had gone from driver to part of the Sky team, so George had answered questions to him a few times, and he’d always been perfectly nice. He _knew_ about Nico, of course. He’d raced for the top of top teams, was a world champion, and he had a bit of a reputation.

George glanced him up and down, discreet as could be, still with the straw to his drink in his mouth. It was helping the shot settle very well, but if he kept drinking at this rate he’d need a new one soon. He had to admit he could kind of see it, he supposed. Nico was handsome, if you liked that blond, looking-like-a-model-thing. But Nico when he was younger had had a certain _something_. George had seen pictures.

They stood in silence for a little while, not that it mattered with the music being so loud. The bass seemed to be dictating George’s heartbeat now, and he couldn’t help but sway along a little bit, kind of like Nico was doing. The people on the dance floor kept moving, familiar faces dotted in among the unknowns, some of them moving a little bit closer together now. George sighed. Another drink suddenly felt like a good idea.

“You want another one?”

Nico had spoken again, but George had no chance of hearing him.

“What?” he said, leaning in a little. Nico leaned in too, taking hold of George’s shoulder and speaking so close to his ear he could swear he felt his lips actually touch his skin.

“Do you want another drink?”

When Nico left for the bar, George still wasn’t sure he had responded to his question at all. When he returned with another shot and a drink for him, George supposed he must have said yes – or at least something Nico had interpreted as such.

“They look like they’re having fun,” Nico commented, nodding towards the dancing crowd. The DJ was waving them on with big arm movements, the song becoming more intense, the beat getting a little suggestive.

Max was facing the DJ, his arms up, his body moving to the music and a girl dancing in front of him, but Alex was right behind him, supporting himself with an arm around Max’s waist. Lance and Esteban were closer together now, probably just because the crowd on the floor had grown steadily over time, and Kevin had moved on to where Hulk was avoiding Daniel’s quite energetic dancing with Jenson.

And then, as if he knew how to do some kind of magic, Jenson seemed to reach in to the crowd, pulling Lando out, close enough to a woman in a skin-tight leopard-pattern dress to have Lando blushing so hard George could see it even from where he was standing.

“Do you want to dance?” Nico asked.

“No,” George said, his eyes not leaving Lando, who was laughing as Jenson spun him around, effectively putting him in the way of whatever Daniel was doing, and Daniel only too happily snatching the little driver up, making some very suggestive moves all of a sudden. George focused fully on his new drink. It tasted like strawberries and vodka.

The usual effect, of making him a little more relaxed and maybe even getting him to the point of dancing, seemed to be hard to catch tonight. It _was_ making him feel warm though, and the tingling sensation persisted.

“Cheers,” Nico suddenly said, his voice still low and conversational but suddenly perfectly audible over the other noise. Almost automatically, George took his shot glass and downed it.

The stinging, dangerously candy-sweet chocolaty drink burned his throat again, but this time he had to smack his lips appreciatively. It was good. Really good.

“Excuse me,” Nico said, draining the last sips out of his glass. “Bathroom.”

George nodded, again copying Nico and taking a sip from his own glass. He didn’t need the bathroom. Not yet. He didn’t know what he needed. More of that shot, maybe.

He looked out to the dance floor again.

What he certainly didn’t need was to watch Lando basically engaged in some kind of mating dance with people like Daniel Ricciardo, especially not with Jenson Button watching like he was quite enjoying the show.

George ran a hand through his hair and instantly regretted it. Now he’d look a mess. Now he really did need the bathroom. It sounded like a good idea. There was nobody dancing in the bathroom. He drained the last of his drink and left.

\--

Jenson looked up and saw Nico leaving, Russell following him within a minute or two. He grinned to himself, checking his watch. Nico wouldn’t _need_ ten minutes, he thought, lifting his drink as Lando bounced a little too close for comfort. He hadn’t considered it until now, but the plan, provided Nico was planning what he thought he was planning, kind of hinged on Lando not being too smashed to be safe in close proximity to the eyes.

Daniel snatched Lando up again, laughing as they kicked their legs out to either side in perfect, unplanned synchronization.

_Oh well_, Jenson thought, snickering as a young woman’s attempts at using Hulk as a stripper pole went ignored in favor of a small, well-tattooed Dane. It wasn’t _his_ eyes.

\--

Nico casually washed his hands and took a look in the mirror. George had followed him into the bathroom and was taking about as much time as could be expected from a drunk teenager. Come to think of it, Nico wasn’t sure George _was_ still a teenager. He must be though? Thinking it’d be rude to ask, he settled for whistling a tune and fixing his hair a little – not that he needed it, but...

George came out of the cubicle and went over to the sinks.

“Are you feeling okay?” Nico asked.

“Mhm,” George nodded, washing his hands thoroughly. _Good boy_, Nico thought.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t be too drunk, you know.”

“No problem,” George said, making a face as he turned off the faucet and looked in the mirror. He had indeed mussed up his hair.

“What?” Nico asked, having seen his displeasure.

“I... never mind.” It felt a bit too vain to say ‘I messed up my hair and now I look even worse than usual’, especially to someone who hardly ever sported a hair out of place. Nico would probably laugh at him. Probably tell the others, and then they’d think he was stupid too. Probably-

“I think you look fine?”

George looked over and found Nico giving him a thoughtful look, studying his hair and his face like he was actually _trying_ to find something wrong with it. “Actually, it looks better than before, no?”

“No?”

“No?” Nico repeated, keeping a straight face until George rather thought the language barrier had blocked the conversation for them altogether. “I’m being serious.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The alcohol was making things spin, and Nico wasn’t making any sense. George shook his head to clear it.

“Wait, better than... what?”

“Before, you know?” Nico moved so fast it was like the drinks they’d had hadn’t affected him at all. If George had tried to move that fast right now, he would have given his face a speed-date with the sink. Nico was behind him, looking at him like hairdressers usually did, with scrutiny and doubt.

“Actually...” he said, and then hesitated. “Can I just try something?”

“Uh-huh,” George said, not exactly sure what he was agreeing to. The headshaking seemed to have made the spinning worse.

Nico wet his hands a little, shook them off, and then ran them through George’s hair, pulling it back and out of his face.

“No, what-”

“Don’t worry,” Nico interrupted, doing it again, drawing the hair – the previously so well-combed hair – out of George’s face. “Much better!”

George looked in the mirror, hesitantly. It wasn’t remotely neat or well-combed now. It looked a little wild, but not exactly messy. More... messed. The water had brought out a bit of the natural curl he hated so much, but when it was pulled back like this, it actually made it look kind of stylish.

Nico looked exceedingly pleased and studied George’s face for another second.

“You have a very handsome face,” he said with a purr, a smile slowly curving his lips.

“Eh... thanks?” George said.

“Who were you watching on the dance floor?”

“What?”

Nico’s smile broadened. “You were watching _someone_, I could tell.”

“Eh...”

“Someone you’re going home with, or hoping to go home with?”

“I, eh...” George couldn’t figure out where his words had gone. In part, it was probably the weirdness of being faced with Nico Rosberg _at all_, in a setting where there wasn’t a microphone between them. In another very large and horrible part, it was because Nico was asking about the one thing nobody ever really asked George about. When it came to his love-life, people just assumed. And they assumed _absolutely nothing_.

Which was true, most of the time.

“So hoping, then,” Nico concluded from George’s non-reply. He studied George’s face for another second, his eyes narrowing.

“Do... can I help?”

“Wha?” George said, eloquently.

“Can I help?”

“I don’t think so?” George had no idea what Nico meant by ‘help’, but he was pretty sure having Nico Rosberg as a go-between in asking Lando out would be somewhere between terrifyingly humiliating and middle-school-dance levels of awkward.

“You have to make...” he looked right into George’s eyes, making him feel squirmy, “him,” Nico nodded to himself, “notice you.”

“I don’t get noticed,” George said automatically, and then pressed his teeth together, looking at Nico almost defiantly. _Go ahead_, he thought. _Go ahead and laugh._

But the older driver just smiled again, looking pleased.

“Maybe not but you can, huh? A few drinks and a bit of daring, go out there and dance!”

“But-”

“Let me just...” Nico opened his blazer and looked in his inside pocket. For a second George had the crazy notion that Nico was going to offer him drugs. Instead, he pulled out what looked like a pencil.

“Can I?”

“What, you... wait, you want me to put on _makeup_?” Now he was sure it was a joke. They were putting him on, setting him up. “You’re joking.”

“It’s not _makeup_.” Rosberg sneered, actually looking offended. “It’s a...” he searched for a word. “Kajal? Kohl!”

“... yeah. Makeup.”

“No no no, it’s just to highlight, you have nice eyes, you know, but you could make it more...” he looked George in the eyes again and something in his smile shifted, making George feel suddenly warm. “Intense.”

Nico nodded. For some reason, and he couldn’t have said why if his life depended on it, George started slowly nodding too. Nico grinned. It must have been the alcohol, George thought as he felt the corners of his mouth turn upward.

“Hold still, I’ve had a few drinks, you know?”

George stood rooted to the spot, ready for whatever might come as Nico leaned in very, _very_ close to his face.

He still wasn’t ready for the bathroom door swinging open and Lando bouncing in, humming along to the song playing beyond the door.

\--

“Whoops! Sorry!” Jenson yelled over the music as his drink was nudged sideways, spilling onto the back of Norris’s shirt. To his credit, Lando only gave the shortest of high-pitched squeals at the sensation before starting to laugh.

_I really hope he isn’t too drunk for this..._ Jenson thought.

“You’d better go dry off a little,” he suggested, nudging Norris in the right direction and shooting Daniel a warning glance before he could even suggest coming along to help. Daniel’s mouth snapped shut so fast Jenson swore he could hear it even through the thumping music. Lando made his dancing way towards the bathrooms and Jenson went to go sit down with the others. Maybe he really _was_ getting old...er.

Nah.

\--

“George,” Lando said, stopping to look at the two men in front of him. George, looking kind of drunk and a little wind-swept, Nico Rosberg looking incredibly pleased about something, holding a pencil at the ready. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but whatever it was, it seemed kinda _private_.

“I can... go?” he said, pointing to the door, already preparing to tear off some of the paper by the sink and go find someone who could dry him off a little.

“Lando!” Nico said, sounding absolutely _overjoyed_. “Perfect, I can’t do this, I’ve had a few drinks, you know, but... are you drunk?”

“Not very,” Lando said, shrugging. George quietly thought Lando would have said that regardless of how drunk he might be – Lando usually said whatever happened to be on his mind. It was one of his more adorable qualities. As if the words might spill out of his open mouth, he closed it.

“Good, good,” Nico said, moving aside and reaching out to pull Lando closer. “Come here, you can do this, we’re helping Georgie-”

“George,” George said.

“George,” Lando said at exactly the same time.

Nico looked from one to the other and smirked.

“Aber naturlish...” He shook his head slowly, and handed the kohl pencil to Lando. “You know what to do, yes?”

“Uhm... yeah, I suppose?”

“Good. I’ll see you later.” And with that, he turned and gave them an almost royally nonchalant wave, exiting the room in long strides. The two younger drivers both watched him leave in stunned silence.

“He’s... really something, isn’t he?” Lando finally said, turning back to George.

“To say the least,” George agreed.

“Alright, you just want me to-” Lando started, moving forward with the kohl liner ready to go.

“No no!” George tried to back up. “It’s fine, really, it was just a silly joke, I-”

“Oh.” Lando looked from the pencil to George and back again. “But now I kinda want to see it?”

“You... what?”

“Hold still.”

Having Nico Rosberg that close to your face was one thing. One very, incredibly awkward thing that he probably would never be able to tell anyone about. Having _Lando_ that close to his face was a completely different thing. Awkward, yes, but very different.

When Lando put his hand on his shoulder, George took a deep breath and leaned in mostly out of reflex. Lando looked so incredibly focused, eyes narrowed and lips pressed together like he was trying to take a particularly difficult turn. George closed his eyes when the pencil approached, and inhaled sharply through his nose when Lando’s hand cupped his cheek. _Just for support, of course_, he thought, but still. He had been a little worried that the pencil would feel sharp or cold or something, but the only weirdness was really that someone was poking around at his eyelid.

“This is a lot... harder... than it looks...” Lando said, and George wanted to open his eyes, but thankfully didn’t.

“Okay, look up.”

George did as he was told, shifting his eyes up to the wholly uninteresting ceiling. Lando moved in even closer now, so close that his breath was ghosting over George’s cheek when he started to line under the eye. George had never been so committed to ceiling tiles and light fixtures in his life.

“It looks really different...” Lando said, slowly moving his hand to get the whole lower eyelid in one swoop. “Let me do the sides.”

“Sides?” George looked down at him. Their faces were much too close together already, and Lando looked so pleased.

“You know, the corners, the...” he flicked his finger out.

“Oh.” He hoped Lando wasn’t going to make him look like some Egyptian queen. “Right.” He took another deep breath and wondered why it felt like there was suddenly so little air in the room. “Okay.” George stood still, but now there was really nowhere to look but right at Lando’s face. And Lando was focused solely on his eyes.

“And now the other...” he said, moving a little to get the other eye finished as well. He was biting his lower lip now, intent on getting both eyes to look the same, competitive as usual. It felt a little bit like putting on a mask, getting into a disguise. George swallowed when Lando backed up just a little, still biting his lip, blinking several times. He looked a little taken aback.

“Wow,” he said breathily.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.”

George looked at his face in the mirror. It felt weird. There was a weird-looking stranger blinking back at him. His eyes looked somehow brighter, the blue a bit deeper, like the black around them was making them stand out more. He doubted whether he could have done a better job doing it himself; it was very neat and tidy, it looked like it belonged there, like it was just part of his face. It _did _look a little sinister, however.

“It was just a...” George wanted to excuse himself now, explain that it had probably been a joke from the start, and the whole endeavor felt a bit silly.

“Shh,” Lando said, moving in close again, too close, so close he would make impact and-

George was mid-word when Lando’s lips met his, making the beginning of the kiss feel strangely one-sided. Realizing his eyes were wide open in surprise, he closed them and tried to focus on getting his lips to cooperate. Lando’s hand was warm against his cheek again and it _must_ be the alcohol making the room spin like that, something in his mind sending lights dancing before his eyes like they were on the dance floor among all those people but still all alone together.

When Lando pulled back and George dared open his eyes, feeling a little winded and very, very unstable on his feet all of a sudden, he realized they were still in the same bathroom. Oh well. Lando smacked his lips together.

“Chocolate?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Nico gave me a screaming orgasm,” George replied automatically. Lando snorted with laughter. “It’s a drink, I didn’t-” George tried.

“I know what it is,” Lando laughed. He seemed to settle himself, looking into George’s eyes and biting his lip again. “Want to go for another one?”

“I... eh...”

“I mean the drink,” Lando grinned. “I think we could at least give it another kiss before going anywhere else?”

George smiled, nodding. Letting Lando take his hand and guide him out of the bathroom, they soon found themselves on the dance floor, lost among the people, all thoughts of funnily named drinks forgotten with more kisses.

\--

“Job well done, Mr. Rosberg,” Jenson said, toasting Nico, who smirked at the two youngsters making out in the middle of the floor.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Mr. Button,” he said, snickering as Daniel drew everyone’s attention to Lando and George by wolf-whistling sharply.

They ordered more drinks and went to sit down with the others.

“How are they getting on?” Seb asked, accepting another beer.

“Very well,” Jenson said with a wink. “They just needed a little nudge.”

“I hope he is going to give my kohl back, you know...” Nico looked thoughtful. “I hope they didn’t leave it in the bathroom.”

“Your what?” Valtteri asked.

“Why did you make them do that shit?” Kimi said, accepting his beer too and taking a long drink before going on. “I don’t understand the thing with the makeup.”

“Makeup?” Valtteri looked to Kimi.

“It _works_,” Nico said stubbornly. “It’s the looking each other in the eyes that long. And it makes him look interesting, _and_ it makes him feel like he can do anything. Like kissing Norris.”

“I don’t want to kiss Norris so keep that shit away from me,” Kimi said, laughing along with the others.

“Come on, okay, so,” Jenson started, pointing to Kimi. “Maybe it’s not for _you_, but at least admit you’d do Seb if he had some of that on.”

“What?” Valtteri said, turning to Seb now. Nico grinned at Sebastian.

“We could do that, no?”

Seb held his hands up. “We’re not doing that.”

“You’ve already _done_ that!” Nico said. Jenson nodded.

“I have pictures.”

Valtteri had gotten tired of trying to follow the conversation and decided to focus fully on his beer.

“Show me the pictures,” Kimi said, shuffling a little closer to Jenson, who took out his phone.

“Don’t show him that!” Seb said, trying and failing to reach across the table.

They argued comfortably about the benefits of using makeup to get what one wanted and laughed about the pictures of a young Sebastian looking very different indeed. All of them completely missed the two young drivers who passed the table on their way towards the exit, one still feeling a little confused but both very thankful, walking hand in hand.

\- The End -

**Author's Note:**

> All in good fun, as per usual! :) All comments and kudoses go to a good home and are loved and appreciated. ;)  
Thanks for the read! <3


End file.
